The Catching of Fire
by Kenatari
Summary: The Novak Household is truly charming. Lysandre, Seibold and Astrid Novak were a clan of blondes who always looked out for each other, regardless of their differences. But matters begin to steadily slope downhill once Lysandre takes on a new appearance and declares war on his father's organization. Set approximately ten years before X/Y games/anime.


"We grieve for it is our desire to regain."

Astrid dreaded the thought of acknowledging Professor Charlotte Novak's Fifth Death-versary in a service of honour at their house, but as it turned out, she wasn't nearly as emotional as she thought she'd be when she was called up to speak about her mother, the former regional professor in Kalos.

Though she spoke her written piece at a monotone, which was untypical for her, she didn't shed a single tear. It did help that the text she was reading out up on the upturned coffee table that had been transformed in to a raised platform for the event, was gracefully scripted by her seventeen-year-old brother Siebold, the slender flaxen-haired boy that stood by the wall and gave her expectant glances as she spoke, dabbing his nose with a spotlessly white handkerchief at occasion, while his older and slightly taller brother Lysandre overlooked his actions with a permanent frown.

It was back at the time when the two could easily pass as brothers: similar blonde hair, same tall and slender builds, same piercing blue eyes. Astrid was the only one who hadn't inherited them, though both her mother and father were blue-eyed as well. She alone had uniquely-coloured amethyst eyes.

Exceeding expectations, the father of the three didn't show up. Astrid had her fair share of vulgar names that she wished to exclaim in his face, but since it had been years since she'd seen him last, such a thing was not possible.

"But it is of what we have lost that will never return." It was Siebold's formal yet melodic voice that rang out in the room. Astrid often found herself envying the young man. He was ever so confident and steady speaking of their parents, and she often felt as if he may not feel any true sadness for their mother's passing at all. As for Lysnadre, well, she could never hope to understand the fellow. Nor most people she knew. She was quite weak at reading others, especially her father.

You might ask why she never bothered to seek him out.

In truth, perhaps she was scared of what she would come up with, the monster she might find. But fear wasn't the only thing that was holding her back. That is, up until _he_ had come along.

* * *

"How would you like your tea, Miss Novak?" Siebold asked in a formal manner, considering the fact that he was addressing his younger sister with the question.

"Speaking generally, I like it non-existent," Astrid replied, with a hint of bored sarcasm, "with a teaspoon of sugar. Heat the water above boiling point, if you will."

Siebold crossed his arms, his expression filling with disdain.

"I believe there are at least ninety-nine kinder ways to refuse a cup of tea," Lysandre observed calmly, stirring his cup of steaming Earl Grey with a petite ceramic spoon and studying the miniature Flab _é_ b _é engraving_ that was etched on the polished pale handle.

"The one-hundredth being _generously accepting_ it." Siebold shrugged his shoulders with aggravation, piping in his dismay in response to her churlish reply. His light blonde waves of hair rippled as he shook with absurd rage, and the pupils of his icy blue eyes dilated. Astrid swiftly raised her mental stats of how seriously Siebold took his dignity in elegant food, especially of his own produce.

"Fine." Astrid leaned forward towards the table and rested her chin on the palms of her hands. "With all honesty and full integrity, I do not want no goddamn cup of leaf juice."

Seibold's eyes widened to the size of Pok _éballs. "_ _Comment oses-tu-_ _"_

With the least of care, Astrid loosely translated her brother's disbelief from French. Comment oses-tu. How dare you.

" _Taire, imb_ _é_ _cile_ _," she chided, though she wished she hadn't._ Siebold's shock evolved in to rage faster than Pok _émon evolution, and he stormed towards the kitchen in a tantrum._

 _The guest, a young man named Augastine Sycamore, chuckled nervously in an attempt to break the tight feeling of tension in the room._

Astrid, slightly red-faced from their guest's reaction, rose from the leather armchair she was sitting on and followed her brother in to the kitchen. She caught on his wrist before he reached the polished doorframe.

She tried to sound sorrowful at the very least when she spoke. "Sorry, Siebold."

"Whatever," he mumbled, violently shaking his hand free of her grip, causing her to exhale a sigh.

Back in the living room, Lysandre and the guest had begun to chat at a lively tone about the merely exotic variety of flower bushes in Vaniville Town. Lysandre exchanged a quick glance with her before returning his focused attention to the guest. Once back in her favoured armchair, Astrid chose not to join in the conversation, since the only thing the bushes ever served as in her eyes were a sneeze trap. She resorted to studying the guest thoroughly instead.

The man was fairly tall, with wavy black hair that complimented his featured and went well with his bright blue eyes. Astrid estimated his age to be twenty five, and contemplated the fact that the aspiring professor that sat before her was fairly attractive. In that case, it was rather odd that he had arrived at Vaniville town alone.

Not alone, she reminded herself with some logical effort. He had brought with him no less than half a dozen occupied Pok _éballs. Three of them, a Bulbasaur, a Charmander and a Squirtle, were roaming around in the backyard with the Novak family's twin Litleos._

Astrid still wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Yes, he had the perfect smile of a child-friendly professor, the youthful air of excitement around him, and the correct choice and flow of words. That wasn't what concerned her. She was more worried as to what she'll think of him as her mother's successor. It had only been a few weeks since her Five-years-counting Memorial service, but she figured that it was about time Dexio had help in the labs, especially in dealing with the starter Pok _é_ mon.

With all due respect, Dexio had been an excellent assistant to Charlotte Novak all these years, but it didn't seem that the golden-haired in the pure white suit was built to run a lab full of Pok _émon._ He seemed more of a salesman, or a Pok _é_ mon Showcase presenter.

Astrid sensed a general shift in the conversation between Sycamore and her brother.

"If you don't mind me mentioning, I couldn't help but notice that it seems you three live alone in this house," Professor Sycamore perceived. "And you don't have any adult guardians?"

Lysandre set his cup on the low glass table, not shaken by the slight touchiness of the topic. "Legally, our neighbors Alaric and Kiera Roch _é_ are our assigned guardians, but for the past two years or so, I've been taking care of most things myself."

"Oh?"

"They had a baby girl, Shauna, and have been fairly busy parenting her, with Alaric being absent most of the time," Lysandre elaborated carefully.

"I babysit," Astrid added shortly, tapping her fingers against the glass surface of the table out of habit.

"I see." Sycamore gently placed his almost vacant cup of herbal tea back on the table. "How old are you, Astrid?"

"I'll be fourteen next month," she replied, fiddling with a strand of her fair hair.

He raised an eyebrow, perhaps due to having forgotten his attempt at a warm approach. "And you've never been on a Pok _émon_ journey?"

The question struck her by surprise. She hadn't had the time to wall herself in preparation. Lysandre pierced her with warning eyes. Before she could help it, a flood of memories and emotions crashed down on her.

A Pok _émon journey. Something Astrid has longed for since her tenth birthday, but in true honesty, she'd wanted to undertake on one even before her mother's passing. Being the daughter of the professor, it would have been a simple task to obtain a starter and depart for the road. But ever since she was eight, she'd had her fair share of times she'd ran away from home, alone or with one of the family's Litleos._

But Lysandre always found her in the end, no matter how far she went. No matter what route she took. No matter how hard she tried to hide. It was as if he was always tracking her mentally.

But she had not attempted an escape on a journey for two years now, and had the events of the last try forever engraved in her mind.

She had been twelve, and had embarked on a route leading to Lumiose City, hoping to befriend a Pok _émon on the way. Instead, she had an unlucky run-in with a gang of ever-raging troublemakers_ when she was chasing a Skiddo down a short slope. Fortunately, Lysandre had found her in only a matter of minutes after the occurrence. Astrid had been painfully shoved over the side of the path by a young troublemaker, when the delinquent boy turned minutes later and found himself face-to-face with a tall and intimidating fair-haired boy. Lysandre had gripped his collar and pulled him up against a wall with a violent thrust.

"Let me go!" The boy had yelled, struggling to break free.

"Apologize, boy," Lysandre mumbled against his ear, shoving his body in to the wall repeatedly, until the boy's body went limp.

"W-who are you?" the boy managed, blood spewing from his mouth as he spoke.

At that point, Lysandre raised him above his head and let him flop to the ground with a painful crunch. "The person you never want to see again."

Astrid had stood nearby, frozen. There was disbelief in her eyes when she looked up at her scowling brother. "Sandy! Sandy, why- why did you-"

Ignoring her, Lysandre gripped her arm tightly and started striding away down the slope, back to where he had come from.

"Let me do this, Lysandre!" She shouted, trying to loosen his grip as she fought back the tears in her eyes. "I'm sick of being the only kid who can't go see the world."

"This world is rotten, Astrid."

"But Sandy-"

He had gazed at her sternly, an expression of his that constantly caused her to flinch. "Don't you ever run off like that again. You hear me? _Ever_."

All this took only a few moments to replay in her mind, but as she noticed Professor Sycamore's expectant look, she shook off the thoughts with a shake of her head.

Sycamore sighed. "A waste of potential, in my opinion."

She flicked a look in Lysandre's direction, and noticed the relief in his eyes, tinted with another emotion she couldn't quite pin down. Perhaps it was guilt.

After another half-hour of light discussion, long after Siebold's apron-less return from the kitchen with a cup of fume tea for himself, Lysandre and Sycamore agreed to call it a day.

Each said their goodbyes and the door shut. Lysandre re-entered the room, looking oddly jaded. There were a few moments of utter silence, only to be broken by Siebold clearing the teacups from the table.

Lysandre smoothed his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. In response, Siebold narrowed his eyes and Astrid cocked her head in question.

"Siebold, Astrid," Lysandre began, his tone resonating and deadly-serious, "we need to talk."

* * *

That was the day. The day Astrid was soon to discover that the unexpected transformation of her brother had begun, from the flaxen-haired and kindhearted Lysandre Novak, to the redheaded, cold and idealistic leader of a villainous team, Lysandre. But not quite Novak anymore.


End file.
